


Tell Me Your Story, Baby

by Selenic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Castiel's POV, Dean loves his Baby, Gen, Time travelling (sort of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:24:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3185435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenic/pseuds/Selenic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He closed his eyes, and reached across time and space, reading the history of this particular Chevrolet Impala that held a special place in Dean Winchester's heart.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me Your Story, Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [millygal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/gifts).



> This is a slightly belated birthday gift for the ever so amazing [millygal](http://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal)! In the small hours of the morning of her birthday, my brain woke up before I did, and the muses saw that as an opportunity to give a story idea :) Despite not sleeping very well that night I'm happy that they did, and I hope Milly will enjoy the story ^_^ A big thank you to [Wings128](http://archiveofourown.org/users/wings128/pseuds/wings128) for reading this through for me, you are awesome, all remaining mistakes are completely mine.
> 
> Crossposted [on my LJ](http://selenic76.livejournal.com/55680.html)

 

Tell Me Your Story, Baby

 

"There, as beautiful as ever again, Baby," Dean said with a pleased grin, clearly talking to the vehicle outside Bobby's garage instead of the angel standing next to him. He was smiling in a genuinely happy way, something Castiel had not seen in a while.

Castiel had always been puzzled by Dean's relationship with his automobile—the car affected Dean's mood in ways that were hard for an angel to understand. Perhaps that perplexity was what had drawn him here today, to attentively watch Dean fix a dent on the car's roof and apply a new layer of wax on the outer surfaces. (Apparently during the last hunt Sam had pushed a demon through a window on the third floor of a building, and it had landed on the car. Dean had not been pleased.)

The experience had been nothing short of witnessing a sacred ritual, starting from Dean carefully checking the weather in the morning, to make sure it was perfect to perform the work outdoors. This continued through each stage of the process, all the way to selecting the perfect wax from the choices available, and then applying and buffing it off by hand instead of using machines for assistance.

At first Dean had seemed a little annoyed at the unexpected attention from the angel, but he still hadn't chased Castiel away. After a while of quiet working, Dean had even begun describing his actions, explaining each step carefully, as if to a child. He was patient when Castiel asked questions, but it was evident some of them sounded foolish to him.

Dean's worship of the Impala had taken several hours, but Castiel was none the closer to really understanding its importance to the hunter.

"Why do you call your vehicle 'Baby'?" Castiel asked, overcome by his curiosity. Being in his vessel for too long was clearly effecting him. "It is a simple means of transportation, not a person, and most certainly not an infant." Dean's brow instantly furrowed.

"Hey, there's nothing 'simple' about Baby," Dean replied sharply, wiping his hands on a rag with angry vigour. "She has character, a soul, and I won't have you calling her 'means of transportation." For a moment it appeared like Dean was going to give Castiel one of his lengthy lectures on the virtues of the Impala, but Dean just sighed instead, turned to look at the results of his work, and the smile crept back on his face. "Just don't mess with her while I'm gone. I mean it, not a finger on her until the wax has set properly, you hear," he said, grouchily but not with any real animosity, and headed out to Bobby's, no doubt to get a cold beverage. He started humming a tune on the way, and was singing softly by the time he reached the door.

Castiel pondered on Dean's words for a moment, taking in the sight of the sleek and lovingly cared for vehicle from bumper to bumper. _How could an inanimate object possess a soul?_ Castiel knew Dean's belief to be false, but could not stop doubt from sneaking into his mind. For were not all things connected to each other, be they of Heaven, of Earth, or even of Hell?

Slowly—out of respect for Dean—but also reverently, Castiel laid his hand on the roof of the car despite being forbidden. The metal was cold under his fingers, the surface smooth with no stickiness, a mark of work well done. Castiel could feel no soul. But when an Angel of the Lord is curious about something, he looks deeper. 

He closed his eyes, and reached across time and space, reading the history of this particular Chevrolet Impala that held a special place in Dean Winchester's heart. He went as far back as the factory it was made in; Janesville, Wisconsin, April 24, 1967.

Castiel watched as the last piece was fitted into place, finally making the car whole. Immediately it became something more than the mere sum of its parts—an entity of its own at least in the minds of the people—but there was no spark of life. Yet this new thing already carried within itself minute traces of those who had helped it come to being, though visible only to someone with angelic sight.

Humans had a way of getting attached to things, and the bond left a mark, however slight or substantial it might be. The result should not have surprised Castiel; after all, he had seen Sam and Dean destroy objects that held spirits in the earthly realm even when their remains had been salted and burned. Experiencing the effect first hand, however, was not the same as knowing about it. Castiel travelled along in time with the car and watched as new bonds and new marks were made.

The first owner had been a devout man, driving around giving Bibles to the poor. He had trusted he vehicle to take him where he was needed, and in return he had taken care of the car the best he could. His trips around the country resulted in a thin residue of human touches on the Impala; brief but indulgent ones from ardent admirers of its beauty, varied soft traces from people given rides to—friends, hitchhikers, people in need.

The owner's presence was naturally the strongest. He had prayed often while leaning his crossed hands on the steering wheel, and the strength of his belief as well as his occasional desperate plea or joyful gratitude had settled there, and during the years had seeped into the very frame of the car. Castiel could feel the remnants of his presence there even in the present moment, like a warm but faded memory, but he would not call it a soul. So he kept looking.

When Castiel's search brought him to Rainbow Motors in Lawrence, Kansas, in 1973, he recognized the place and the moment, but saw them from a different perspective. Dean's love for the Impala radiated off him as he sat on the hood and waited for the used car salesman to leave his father alone. It was just as evident that John Winchester's heart had already been taken by the car, even as he pondered the purchase of another. As the son persuaded the father to buy the car that " is still gonna be badass when it's forty ", Castiel felt that moment etch itself on the Impala, and become a part of it. The bond was instant, and deep, young John's hesitant infatuation amplified by Dean's love for both the man and the vehicle that had become such an integral part of his life, and memories. And that was only the beginning of things to come.

John proposing to Dean's mother on the front seat, the time they brought the newly born Dean home, then Sam—the brilliant highlights of a multitude. So much happiness, joy, and love. Castiel saw each moment leave their signature on what was no longer merely a car, but an extension of their beings. In a very human way, they all loved it for what it was, but also for the memories it contained. Then everything changed.

Darkness, so many years of despair, the depth of which was often hidden from others, but the essence of which was soaked up by the one thing that witnessed so much of it.

John's obsession for finding the thing that had killed his wife, Sam and Dean growing up to become hunters, Sam leaving. Castiel could have sworn the black paint of the car began to gleam like the starless night at the end of the universe. Yet it was not devoid of sparkle. Castiel spied moments with the brothers, playing happily in the backseat, their father smiling at them. Or just Dean and Sam, the older brother sometimes teasing the younger one, comforting him at others. John teaching Dean everything he knew about the Impala and fixing cars, Dean passing the knowledge along to Sam the best he could.

The warmth of those sparks always won over the darkness, no matter what transpired, and Castiel discovered that in the moments that Dean sat alone behind the wheel, it flowed back to him. Even when the vehicle had to bear the brunt of Dean's anger, a fist on the hood, a kick on a tyre, or that one time Dean had taken the crowbar to a window, he received only consolation in return. For the first time Castiel understood that for Dean the car was a place of solace and comfort. The bond he had formed with it was beyond breaking, and in return, the Impala responded to him, giving back what had been taken away. How could an object that did not posses a soul do such a thing?

Castiel sought out each caress Dean had given the dark surfaces, went through every maintenance, repair, part replacement. Anything altered or added, old or new, began to softly glow as soon as they became a part of the car. Something had formed out of everything imbued, the myriad indelible traces left by people forming the shape of the Impala, and in a way similar to how Castiel had a human as his vessel, so the Impala had its metal shell.

Aligned with its very base particles, laying parallel to each curve and line, resided the spirit of the car, born out of human moments and emotions. The closer Castiel approached the current location and time of his physical vessel, the more the spirit began to glow, like a golden aura within and around the car, with a few dark swirls making brief appearances.

A slender tendril reached out to Castiel, to his fingers lying on the roof. Suddenly he was taken to see other scenes, of himself seated in the car, and Castiel was shown that he had left his mark too. His worry for the world, his deepening care for Sam and Dean—it was all imprinted on the seats he had used. In each part of the Impala he had touched.

A bright golden print of his hand had silently grown under Castiel's palm, and he knew it would remain there from this day forth, as would every mark left on the Impala. Even if every part of the vehicle was replaced, even if the whole of the car was destroyed and rebuilt, the spirit of it would remain as long as there were people alive, or angels, that were bonded to it. There was no doubt either of the fact that if Dean ever ended up as a ghost, they would have to salt and burn the Impala, and even that might not be enough.

Castiel let his grace reach out to the glow, and the spirit. He found warmth, a desire to protect, fierceness, understanding, gentle approval... and in essence, a soul. Not the kind Castiel had ever encountered, but he could give it no other name. A soul that had not come to life, but had gradually found its way to it, and was still growing. Though Castiel hesitated to go as far as ascribing the Impala a gender, there was a certain sense of rightness in attributing a feminine quality to her person.

"And what the hell are you doing?" Castiel had been so absorbed by what he was doing, that Dean's approach had gone unnoticed. His irritation did not. Castiel opened his eyes. The angel in him could still see and feel the connection to the Impala, but the vision of his vessel was more limited, and so would be Dean's.

"Forgive me, Dean," Castiel said, lifting his hand away from the car. He felt an odd tinge of sadness at the loss of contact. The glowing mark of his hand remained, though it faded slightly, but Castiel made sure the newly applied surface coating was intact otherwise.

"Well sorry ain't gonna cut it if I have to wax the roof again," Dean grumbled. The vibrations of his voice made the aura of the Impala shine a little brighter, more so on the side that Dean was on. Castiel watched some of it extend out from the fender the hunter stood next to, and coil soothingly around his leg.

"You need not worry, I have done no harm," Castiel replied calmly, his gaze following the soft gold as it climbed higher, until a thin wisp caressed Dean's scowling face. The angry lines smoothed out a little, but suspicion remained. Dean stared first at Castiel and then at the car, then at Castiel again, no doubt certain something had happened in his absence.

"You still look like you've got some explaining to do, Feathers," Dean said, his gaze boring into Castiel as if trying to read his mind. "In my experience angels don't go about fondling cars with that much intent."

"That was between me and Baby, and is none of your concern" Castiel replied sternly, surprised to realize he meant every word. The complicated mixture of emotions on Dean's face was noteworthy. The Impala's aura rippled briefly, as if she was amused. In all honesty, Castiel could have tried explaining things to Dean, but he found he did not wish to. What he had shared with the Impala had been done in confidence, and thinking on the matter now, with her approval. There was no reason to disclose her true nature to Dean—he already loved her, and believed in her soul, and there was no point in disrupting a relationship that worked as it was.

So Castiel turned towards the Impala, bowed slightly and said: "Thank you, for everything." Then he vanished, leaving behind a furiously muttering hunter, who claimed once again that all angels were dicks, and immediately went to inspect the roof of his Baby.

As Castiel soared towards Heaven, he searched his own being, and found it to be as lastingly marked as the Impala; by her, by Jimmy Novak, by Sam and Dean, by his heavenly brothers and sisters, by his Father—and so many others. A part of them would always be with Castiel.

"We are _all_ more than the sum of our parts, Father," he whispered joyously. Castiel had known this throughout his existence, but it had taken a special kind of '67 Chevrolet Impala with a soul to show him what it truly meant.

 

~~~ End ~~~

 


End file.
